


I May Be Weak, But I Am Strong Thanks To You.

by joseestar98



Category: Harry Styles - Fandom, Larry Stylinson - Fandom, Louis Tomlinson - Fandom, One Direction
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-20
Updated: 2013-09-20
Packaged: 2017-12-27 03:09:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/973599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/joseestar98/pseuds/joseestar98
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Saving Harry Styles was not the easiest task I had ever accomplished. Saving him was frustrating at times, and even depressing. Seeing someone you love slowly lose their hair, due to cancer. Though, I couldn't save him from his inevitable death, I knew that I could save him from going mad, knowing he would pass in just a matter of time. It seemed as if I had temporarily distracted him from the obvious truth, giving him something to remember while looking down on me in heaven. Maybe I was wrong, but that's something only time could tell."</p>
            </blockquote>





	I May Be Weak, But I Am Strong Thanks To You.

**Author's Note:**

> No smut, but I spent literally all day and night, trying to get this right. I hope you guys like it!

Saving Harry Styles was not the easiest task I had ever accomplished. Saving him was frustrating at times, and even depressing. Seeing someone you love slowly lose their hair, due to cancer Though, I couldn't save him from his inevitable death, I knew that I could save him from going mad, knowing he would pass in just a matter of time. It seemed as if I had temporarily distracted him from the obvious truth, giving him something to remember while looking down on me in heaven. Maybe I was wrong, but that's something only time could tell. If he wakes up, if he passes here, without me knowing unless the beep of the heart rate machine thing- the doctor had told me it was an electrocardiograph, whatever that means- goes flat. I don't know what I would do if I heard it go. I would probably run to him and beg him to wake. Let me see those eyes once again. Though, I don't get too hopeful. I can't be hopeful, just in case I find him dead in his hospital bed, holding all of my hopes and dreams in his no-longer-beating heart.   
I'm getting a little ahead of myself. See, it's very easy for me to get off track. People are always telling me that it's interesting, seeing me acting on whatever my mind is onto next. Harry and I have been best mates for forever, since we were just tiny lads. Our mums had told us stories of how we teamed up to climb on counters and shelves, trying to get to whatever we wanted. Growing up together was obviously the best, because we were the best of friends. Harry and I shared everything. Clothes, lockers, beds, food. Anything, really.   
We also shared plenty of firsts. Firsts that should have been for young ladies that swooned at the sights of us, but we always had our eyes on each other. The first time we kissed, we were laying down on his bed, and I looked up at him, taking in the sunshine he was. He lit up my whole world. Hell, he was my whole world. He was the sun, and he gave me warmth. His smile gave me light. He was the only reason that I was held to the earth; My entire reason for existing. The kiss was spontaneous. I was on my back, and he was above me, smiling like he had just won a million dollars. It was sudden, long, clumsy, and perfect. We agreed with fond smiles, that we would definitely work on that more, and perfect our technique.   
The real first time, the one that you're told to save for 'the one' was the one I'll always remember most. I was nineteen and Harry was seventeen. He just hit a rather large growth spurt, and I had become obsessive over his height and deep, man-like voice. His smile shone like the fucking moon on a clear night, every time I showered him with adoration, and compliments on his new manly figure. One day, once he had gotten home from school, we hit two birds with one stone. He looked me in the eyes, and said, "I love you, Lou." Those words replay in my head every day, like a never ending song, a beautiful melody that is music to my ears. We slowly made our way upstairs, stopping every few seconds to exchange gentle touches and kisses, and just appreciate the love and affection that we had for each other. He took me that day, despite my worries about his size, and my fears. Everything turned out alright in the end, with me laying in his arms, listening to Coldplay, blare through my sound system. Happiness filled my body, to my core, because I didn't need to waste my time trying to find my true love. He had been with me my whole life, loving and protecting me from nearly every danger around.   
On my 20th birthday, he was still by my side, grinning and kissing the top of my head every few moments. He didn't hesitate to hold my hand tight, and tell me he loved me as much as he could fit in. It was the little things like that, that made chills run up my spine, and reality hit me, that this perfect boy was all mine. Shortly after Christmas, exactly December 28th, Harry woke up with numb legs, and an aching back. Me being an avid watcher of medical documentaries, I knew this was a common symptom of Prostate Cancer. Protesting against my efforts to make him go to the doctor, Harry told me everything would be alright, and that he was just getting old.   
A few nights after his back pain started, things were getting steamy between us, though he was having trouble downstairs, if you know what I mean. He got extremely frustrated, and told me that he's sorry, and that he'll make it up later. I reminded him that, that was a symptom of Prostate Cancer, and I insisted he got checked out, just in case.   
I drove Harry to the doctor, and we were both nervous for results. Our feet tapped on the hard linoleum of the hospital floor, and our hands wound together tightly, afraid to let go. I stayed in the hospital with Harry that night, with tears in my eyes, watching him sleep as I realized that the love of my life had cancer, and I could very well lose him over it.   
Months passed us like minutes, in the sense that my time with Harry was most likely limited, and yet they passed by like years, because all we had to do was talk about the latest world news, or stare at the blank, white walls. Harry's doctor didn't let him leave the hospital the entire time he was being treated for his cancer. Harry grew weaker day by day, and I never left his side, not even for a moment. Sooner than we expected, Harry's birthday rolled around, and it had to be spent inside the confines of the hospital. I insisted that I would make it up to him once he was cancer free, but he just gave me a half-hearted smile and shook his head. "Even if I don't get to see outside the hospital ever again, know that just having you by my side makes me perfectly okay with anything that happens, Boo." He reminded me, and I smiled at him sadly. "You'll make it past the walls, Haz. You'll make it. Please don't say you aren't, because damn it, you are." I said, half angry with Harry's negative view, and that was that.   
Soon, Harry was given Chemotherapy, and he lost all of his beautiful locks. He was still beautiful, though. His bright green eyes had faded, and his smile didn't reach his eyes, but he was still beautiful. Sorrowfully beautiful. It was like the sun had faded, and all the life that depended on it had faded. I grew tired. The kind of tired that you can feel in your bones, that a good sleep can't even get rid of. It's the kind of tired where you just want to lay down with the person you love and relax. This was one of the times when I wished that I was allowed to get in Harry's bed, and hold him. All I'm allowed to do is hold his hand, because he is fragile, and no risks can be taken that could affect Harry's mental and physical health.   
Harry stopped responding to me today. He looked at me for a moment, and then turned his head away. I called his name and held his hand, but he was unresponsive. I spent my 21st birthday in the hospital, crying and looking at the love of my life, unresponsive and weak. Suddenly, I realized I was left alone. My sun was nearly burnt out, and all life was fading fast. I stayed on Christmas as well. I stayed every day I didn't have to work, or go to the store to get something. I got Harry a new bandanna, and a cute little Christmas card. I knew that if he was awake, he would love it endlessly.   
I nearly lost all hope when his 20th birthday rolled around, and he had made no progress, nor did he get any worse. He stayed the same. Un-moving, un-lively, unaware that his boyfriend sat next to him and cried every day, waiting and waiting for him to pull through. He was skinnier than he had ever been. Even as a tiny teenager, he looked fuller and healthier than now. I watched him non-stop, only dozing off for an hour or so, before waking up to keep an eye on him, and check his progression.   
I was going mad. Completely mad without him. I hadn't talked to him since November, which was the longest I had ever gone. Sure, I sat and spoke to him about my day, and how my mum was always telling me that I needed to do something with my life besides sit inside of a hospital, and that Lottie was off to Uni and starting up a promising career as a nurse. He had missed so much. His mum had even stopped coming to the hospital, too tired and depressed to see her son barely hanging onto whatever life he had.   
I thought I was dreaming when I heard it. Well- I was. I heard Harry's voice, barely a whisper, and it was so, so scratchy sounding, like it hadn't been used in months. Then, I opened his eyes, and gasped at the sight of pale green eyes, staring into my tired, bloodshot blues. I had to be dreaming, Harry couldn't just wake up could he? No, that's impossible. Then, his hand reached out and it brushed my cheek so lightly, I knew it wasn't a dream. I gasped once again and jumped up, ringing for the doctor immediately. I felt happiness fill my insides once again, seeing and feeling my love, my sun, there, warming me to my very core. He was still here. He was responsive. I had never been more grateful for anything in my whole life, until the doctor told us some news. "It's a god damned miracle!" He swore, shaking his head. "Never have I ever seen someone just randomly recover. No trace of the cancer or anything!" He continued, making both Harry and I grin.   
Harry's light slowly faded back into his eyes, and he slowly began to go back to normal, though missing two years of your life is tough. I was there with him, every step of the way. I was patient, and I loved him as much as someone could love anyone. He was my sunshine, my life, and he still is.  
Now, I'm standing at the altar with him, holding his fragile hand. He grew stronger over the months, and eventually he was strong enough to walk up the aisle, and say, 'I do.'


End file.
